


the weight of the world we are holding

by fadeoutslow



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeoutslow/pseuds/fadeoutslow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five first kisses that weren't right, and one that was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the weight of the world we are holding

He's always resisted Nelson's advances. Not for any good reason, but because it seems like too much of a cliché, the two of them, with their fathers, their expectations, the things they have in common. _Heirs apparent_ , one of the papers calls them, and though Nico might shrug it off, casual, he can't help but feel a sense of pride, warmth spreading through him at the thought of living up to his father's name.

But there are other thoughts, too, the ones he doesn't allow himself in daylight, the crushing weight of _what if_ , the fear of not being _enough_ , the creeping panic that crawls unbidden from the corners of his mind during the times when he can't sleep.

The year Nico is eighteen, he lets Nelson kiss him. It's awkward, at first, clashing teeth and clumsy angles, eagerness getting the better of them, but after a minute or so, they settle into it. Nico's hands are in Nelson's hair when he pulls back, breathing hard.

"Are you a virgin?" Nelson asks, and Nico shakes his head in reply. It's not _quite_ a lie, because he's fucked girls, but there's never been anything like this.

"Yeah," says Nelson. "Me neither."

 

It's not like Nico's _desperate_ for Mark's approval, it's not like needs validation from the guy. Nico's here because he deserves to be here, he knows, he's earned his place in the team. It's just that Mark won't stop _watching_ him and it's making Nico crazy. That steady, impassive gaze that doesn't ever waver, not even when Nico turns to stare back, defiant, heat in his eyes, tongue running over his lips.

Mark doesn't react. But he doesn't look away, either, and Nico doesn't know what to think. Until one day when Mark corners him behind one of the team trucks, grabs Nico and kisses him, hard and deep, but completely, utterly controlled. 

Nico tries to go with it, keep up, but his head's spinning and he soon forgets himself, rubbing up against Mark like a horny teenager. And Mark steps back, smiles, not showing his teeth, glancing down at the bulge in Nico's jeans. "See you, Britney," he says, and walks away.

Nico groans in frustration, quiet as he can, but he hears a distant laugh, and when he looks up, Button's there, peering at him from around a corner, grinning.

But before Nico can say anything, he's gone.

 

Ross has instructed them to get drunk together, _bond_ , he said, but the last thing Nico feels like doing is making friends, playing nice. This was supposed to be his big moment, the year when he finally comes into his own, but all anyone can talk about is Michael's comeback.

"So," Michael says, swallowing the last of his drink, placing the glass carefully on the bar, "you think you can take me?"

Nico narrows his eyes. "I think I'm faster than you, yeah," he says, and Michael looks at him, smirking.

"That wasn't," he says, "what I meant."

In the elevator on the way up to Michael's room, they kiss, Michael's tongue in Nico's mouth moving slowly, thorough and measured. His hand is around Nico's throat, gentle pressure on his windpipe not sufficient to hinder his breathing in any way but enough that he can _feel_ it, enough to make a statement of intent, and Nico doesn't protest. Not now, not yet.

"I think we'll work well together," Michael says, pulling away.

Nico nods, not saying anything, and later, when he fucks Michael from behind, he makes certain to leave bruises, fingers digging into Michael's hips, hard as he can.

 

Jenson's watching him from across the room at the driver's association dinner, smiling, and Nico's given up trying to work out if it's a flirting smile or an I'm-laughing-at-you smile. Maybe both, he thinks, because, so far as Nico can tell, the two states are basically interchangeable when it comes to Jenson. Nico's never been able to get a read on the guy, never been sure whether or not he's interested. He _acts_ interested, sometimes, but then he backs away, makes his excuses whenever Nico tries to make a move.

"Hey," says someone, stepping into Nico's field of vision. 

It's Sebastian, and Nico smiles politely. "Hello," he says. They've never been friendly.

Sebastian sways a little, clearly drunk. "Is Michael fucking you?" he asks, a touch _too_ loudly.

"No," Nico says, pausing to enjoy to the look of relief that flashes over Sebastian's face before he adds, "I'm fucking _him_."

Sebastian's eyes go dark, and he turns away. Not long after, he corners Nico in the bathroom, kisses him, messy and desperate, mouth tasting of alcohol and sadness. Nico drags them both into a stall, locks the door and lets Sebastian fuck him.

It seems the kindest thing to do.

 

"We can stay friends, right?" Lewis says, his voice hopeful. "I mean, we can keep it on the track, can't we?"

"Of course we can," Nico assures him. "We always have."

Lewis nods, seeming relieved. They're at Nico's place, and they've had wine with dinner, and Lewis has that faraway look in his eyes that he gets when he drinks too much.

"You're like my brother, dude," Lewis says, his arm draped over the back of the couch, hand falling forward on to Nico's shoulder.

"I know," Nico tells him.

"I love you, man," says Lewis, and Nico smiles. _I love you too_ , he wants to say, but he doesn't. 

He was in love with Lewis, once, back when they were kids, before Nico was old enough to understand what the word meant, what love really was. 

Everything was easier, then.

Lewis gazes at him, serious, and he leans forward, brushing his mouth over Nico's. And Nico allows himself the tiniest hesitation, the slightest moment of indulging what might have been, before he stands up, says, firmly, "I think you should go home."

"Yeah," says Lewis, looking confused, like he doesn't even remember what just happened, "I think I should."

 

"Do you want to have dinner?" Jenson asks him, one race weekend.

"What?" Nico says. "Why?" He's sick of this, the back and forth between them that never goes anywhere, circling in on itself until Nico can only feel tired.

"I don't know." Jenson shrugs. "Like a date." And for once, he doesn't seem to be joking.

"Okay," Nico says. "Sure." 

A week later, and the restaurant's close to both their apartments, so they walk home afterwards, avoiding the traffic. 

"I always thought you didn't like me," Nico says, breathing the cool night air, the smell of the sea.

"I always liked you," says Jenson. "I just didn't always like myself." He laughs briefly, sounding rueful. "I just didn't _trust_ myself."

"Yeah," says Nico. "I get that." And he does.

They stop outside Jenson's building. Nico looks at him, suddenly feeling oddly bashful, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Do you want to come up?" Jenson asks, and Nico takes a second, tries to play it cool, but he's not fooling anyone.

"Maybe…" he starts, but before he can finish, Jenson's kissing him, lips soft against his own, and Nico can't remember what he was going to say.


End file.
